Not Just a River in Egypt
by seghen
Summary: So, you and Henry. You've been friends for a long time, you must have hooked up at least once, right?" asked the young blond with an air of knowing, as though it was unfathomable that the two had never passed into the realm of romantic.


**Harper's Island, my newest obsession. Anyone who has yet to watch the show, the first four or so episodes are a little rough but trust me, by the end it's worth it.**

"_So, you and Henry. You've been friends for a long time, you must have hooked up at least once, right?" _asked the young blond with an air of knowing, as though it was unfathomable that the two had never passed into the realm of romantic. It was the first on-site pre-wedding celebration was in full swing and Abby was trying to remember to breathe as she socialized, her cocktail acting as liquid courage but even with the added bolster she couldn't stop herself from feeling the beginnings of a blush creeping on her cheeks.

Henry appeared over Abby's shoulder, sparing her the necessity of a reply. And for this she would be eternally grateful. He smiled at her, beamed really, and Abby tentatively returned the gesture, albeit with less enthusiasm. She was never quite able to match his joy, but it didn't seemed to bother him.

She allowed herself to be sent off on an errand to the Cannery, eager to be helpful and to clear her mind at the same time.

No, no she and Henry had never 'hooked up.' Abby tried to laugh it off, act as though the very thought was ridiculous but she wasn't quite able to pull it off. She vacated the party, glad to have a chance to escape even if she was relegated with the task of fetching Henry's wayward brother.

She was content, perhaps even more than that, with the way that Henry looked at his bride-to-be. Unabashed adoration was the only term she could think of that really did it justice. Whenever his eyes met hers they lit up, and it made Abby smile to see it. She wanted nothing more than to see her best friend be happy with the girl of his dreams. They belonged together, she had known it since childhood. Even when she felt as though she had nothing or no one to depend on, she always had that.

Henry and Trish, high school sweethearts, soul mates. It just wasn't right when they weren't together, at least that was what Abby Mills staunchly believed. The pair had both spent their summers on the island, though the Wellington's had the distinction of coming to vacation in a quaint locale and the Dunns worked throughout the summer months. They had their on-again/off-again drama when they were younger, breaking up so that Trish could do her time with a passionate, attractive, wealthy and unreliable man child. But of course he didn't measure up, and she returned to Henry's arms where she belonged.

Abby only knew the details from second-hand story telling, she was already in L.A. when the event transpired and she didn't receive any important intel from either of the involved parties. She got the general idea from friends, on the rare occasion when she and Sully would exchange e-mails or the even more atypical phone call. Henry didn't talk much about their relationship after Abby moved away, she could tell that he was out of sorts when they were broken up but they always occupied their conversations with something else. She didn't completely fall off the grid, Henry and the others made the effort to keep up some communication between the old friends though she never in a million years thought that she would be here again. On the island, in a tight pink dress, surrounded by both new and familiar faces. Being back made here made her feel like she was all of eighteen again.

But no, she had to remind herself, she was grown up now. She was a self-supporting, successful writer in the prime of her life. Well, semi-successful, but at least enough so that she could maintain a comfortable life in Los Angeles despite the ridiculous rent rates and her fair skin that was prone to burning, especially in the California sun. But it was worth it to wake up in a place where her mother had never walked in, talked in or even knew about.

Seven years later and the pain was still there, underlying but constant, resurfacing and resurging in her low days like arthritis acting up in the rain. She had adjusted, it hadn't been easy but without the constant reminders she had made do. And she had always known that one day she would return, even if she didn't especially want to, that eventually it would happen and her best friend's wedding might have been her last chance.

Henry was attentive to her, complimentary and gentlemanlike and though every once in a while he leaned in a little too close she brushed it off like she always did. Personal space was something that existed between friends and acquaintances, but they had always been more than that. She vividly recalled the fits of depression she had to fight when September came and the Dunns left, taking her best friend with them. The summers were magical and wonderful, she and Henry were thick as thieves and even the locals were forced to make room for him in their tight knit group because their fearless leader insisted that Henry be part of the circle.

She was well acquainted with the myth that men and women could not be friends without some unrequited sexual tension, but maintained that this was ridiculous. Yes, she had seen When Harry Met Sally and her position was still immovable, she was friends with Sully and the others (though from Sully she did have to put up with an insubordinate amount of come-ons when they were teenagers) and none of them had exploded from longing just yet.

All those years ago Henry had gotten a little too close, and with his usual earnestness he had expressed a desire for something that Abby couldn't quite reconcile herself with. But it had been a hard time for him, going to college and faced with a long distance relationship with Trish that he was naturally tentative about. And Abby understood, wholly and completely. While Trish loved him and said it over and over again she wasn't as strong a person as Henry would have liked. She exalted her commitment, but she was young, rich and beautiful and wavered occasionally. She was only human, and she relied heavily on her father's approval and her love life was the one place where he could find fault.

Mr. Wellington hoped that the distance would put paid to their relationship, that she would meet up with some young man called something something-ton the third or forth who had more money than God and that she would forget all about Henry. And Trish had always wanted to make her father happy.

And so it was reasonable that Henry was nervous that they wouldn't last, that she would find the distance too taxing when surrounded by opportunity and scores of enthusiastic suitors who were at par or even above her pay grade. And it turned out that his worries were not without foundation. But even where she erred Henry was always there, solid and reliable, something to come back to. When Hunter Jennings pursued her she predictably crumbled and called it off with Henry she knew, or perhaps just strongly believed that her first love would be waiting in the wings. She came back, most knew that she would, it was a given when one took into account the fact that Henry treated her like a princess and Hunter treated her like a plaything.

So, especially in hindsight, it was completely understandable that he had second thoughts before they went off to school, at least that's what Abby adamantly told herself. It had been days before the rampage, before Abby's entire world was turned upside down, and she had done her best to forget about the incident all together. It hadn't been hard at the time, especially considering the events that followed. She and Jimmy were going to take the next step and she was ready, excited, apprehensive and really nervous, but ready all the same.

Abby had her MP3 player plugged in and her exercise clothes on, going for her usual run through the woods. She liked it that way, jumping over gnarled logs, navigating across the uneven landscape, dodging tree branches and keeping her heart rate up. She knew the island like the back of her hand, she had lived there her whole life and during the long and sometimes lonely winter and spring months she had taken to exploring the wilderness.

When she was young she would pretend that she was alone on the island, finding and sometimes fighting her way through the treacherous land. But it had just been a game, Harper's Island had always been a safe place, the crime rate was very low and the community close knit. When she was tired of exploring alone she taught the others and they would play together, and when Henry would come he of course would join in. And then it would be the two of them against the world, as hackneyed as it sounded it was true.

On the return trip she slowed down a little, peering into the sky breathlessly as the clouds joined together. It looked like rain, but that didn't bother her. She exited the woods at a slower speed and was surprised to find Henry waiting for her. Those were the bittersweet days, when he was on the island but they could both see the finish line. Even as they grew up they never grew apart, neither one would allow it. In a way it was like they were still kids, still playing games and still automatic allies.

When everything else was complicated and laden with invisible strings, they weren't.

No one else could quite understand their language, and though not normally prone to jealousy Trish sometimes felt a bit cast aside and out of place, but it never lasted long. Henry was loving and attentive and only in Abby's presence did she feel that there was something lacking, that she would always have a piece of her Henry that Trish could never touch.

Abby gasped and moved her hand to the controller, turning off the music and pulling the foam headphones down and off of her ears, the plastic crescent resting on her shoulders. "Hi," she said, simultaneously cheerful and out of breath. He smiled, he was always smiling at her and it made her a little sad to know that she wouldn't be able to see him greet her with such enthusiasm for much longer. But they had always made it through the year, she had long since lost the fear that they would drift apart. Why should this year be any different from the rest?

"Hi," he said, and Abby started walking and he followed suit. It seemed like he was always following her, but he was more than okay with that fact. It was the way their relationship was, and it was blissfully simple and wonderful.

The sky was overcast, and it was one of the many things that he loved about Harper's Island. Was it strange that he liked the dreary weather? But that didn't even make the top ten list of why he wished that every day could be summer, just so he could be there. That was usually a feeling that most grew out of to some extent, but he never did.

"Where's Trish?" she asked, still a bit out of breath. He wordlessly handed her the water he had been carrying just in case he ran into her. He knew that she didn't like to run with a bottle of water sloshing around, so he usually kept one on hand. She broke the seal and took a long gulp, draining half its contents in one mouthful. "Thanks."

He had to check his glance when he looked at her, it seemed like he was doing more and more of that these past few summers. He had always thought in the back of his head, in the furthest corner of his psyche that someday they wouldn't be friends anymore, that this was just prefacing their future. When he was a kid he practically hero worshipped her, Abby Mills could do no wrong. She was strong, fierce and loyal. When they were in junior high she was a refreshing change from what he had been subjected to throughout the school year. He half expected to one year find her irrevocably changed, transformed from fun tomboy to primping princess but it never happened. She wasn't a stereotype, she was a perfect blend of attributes and characteristics that could never be replicated.

But he had fallen in love with Trish and had honestly and sincerely thought that that was it, that whatever it was he and Abby had would remain in the platonic playing field and he pretended that he was alright with that. It was easier when they were separated by twenty-seven miles of water and he didn't need to see her, hear her laugh and watch her subtle smile. Looks wise, not to be cruel, there was no contest. Trish was beauty queen, Abby was girl-next-door. And when he was with Trish he was happy, he adored her and loved her. But when he was with Abby he was whole, and there was really nothing that could successfully compete with that.

Abby was always an anomaly. She was as changing but in essentials innately the same as the sea, full of surprises and always real and genuine. "She got off work a few hours ago and now she and Shea are having a girl's day. She came from the mainland for a visit," he said as way of explanation, correctly reading the knitting of her eyebrows before they even fully furrowed.

"She and what's-his-name have a kid now, right? Madolyn?" she hazarded a guess.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, _Madison _is at home with 'what's-his-name' so Shea could visit." Abby nodded, supremely unconcerned. She pulled at her cotton shirt that was clinging to her skin.

"God, I sweat straight through this." He had noticed. "I must stink to high heaven." She didn't.

He forced his eyes off of her as she pulled her hair down from its sloppy ponytail and redid it mindlessly, shoulder brushing against Henry's biceps. He liked the way that felt and he subconsciously leaned toward her to prolong the contact. As always, she was oblivious. For someone of reasonable intelligence she had a Henry sized blind spot clogging up her peripherals. "You want stink? Try working on Lord Wellington's yacht. I swear he sticks me with the grunt work to punish me." Abby offered a consoling smile.

"You know why, he's just frustrated that he can't do anything to keep you two apart. He can do anything he wants but break you guys up and that's got to kill a guy like him. But too bad," she grinned, "he can't stand in the way of true love."

He summoned up a smile, his facade was improving after a lot of practice. He told himself that he liked how fully and whole-heartedly Abby approved of his relationship with Trish, but he couldn't even convince himself. But he was getting better at convincing everyone else.

"Yeah, well," he said vaguely. Abby's interest was immediately piqued.

"Well what?" He concealed a smile.

"We're going to different schools."

Abby shrugged. "You'll make it work." He frowned, but quickly turned his expression around to one of thoughtfulness.

She knew how silly and naive it was to think that childhood sweethearts would stand the test of time and maybe she had her own selfish reasons for wishing for it. She wasn't stupid, she just chose to ignore what was in front of her when it was convenient. When they were alone there was a perceptible change in their interactions, a change that even systematic denial couldn't diminish. When they were with Trish and Jimmy they both comfortably lapsed into their roles, but in their absence she felt slightly uncomfortable.

Abby had caught his eyes on her occasionally and not even all of the selective blindness in the world could convince her otherwise. It wasn't the same looks he reserved for Trish, it was more primal, more intense. But always fleeting, just for long enough to surprise her and then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Sometimes she wondered if she was just imagining it. For both of their sakes she had tried her best to pretend that everything was the same, that it was all in her head but little did she know that she was understating his interest.

"What makes you so sure?"

It was her turn to frown, but she didn't bother concealing it. She had nothing to hide. "What makes you so doubtful?"

She wasn't accusatory, simply curious and he couldn't believe that she couldn't see it. Couldn't feel it. He knew that she had to, that she had to be working just as hard as he was.

"I'm just…trying to be realistic," he said, his well-practiced smile beginning to show wear for the first time. She slowed her pace, rapt in thought. Realistic? He and Trish were made for each other, they had made it work for years, laying down a solid foundation based on common interests as well as similar goals, she just had a leg up thanks to her family's financial situation. But of course they were only young, with their whole lives ahead of them. Most teenage romances end, even past the point where one is considered an adult they still continue to mature, and often to the detriment of their relationship.

What about her and Jimmy? She was going off to school and he was staying on the island, they hadn't officially been a couple for very long and neither had any real ideas about what the future was going to hold. Abby was reasonably sure that she wanted him in her life, but who knew? Henry had a point, he was being pragmatic and she was being naively idealistic. She shifted uncomfortably, taking a quick sip just to have something to occupy her hands and mouth with.

"Hey," she said, trying to force cheer into her voice, "if you want to be together, you'll stay together." She knew that it wasn't that simple, but she wanted it to be. She wanted it to be like when they were kids, when things were black and white and all shades of gray were disregarded. But she was being purposefully dense, hoping that ignoring the burgeoning situation would diffuse it and spare them both embarrassment.

For the first time in a long time Henry and Abby found themselves in the midst of an awkward silence.

The truth was that Trish was what made it safe for her and Henry to be so close without romantic implications. They had mercifully been able to skip over any awkwardness during adolescence simply because there had been a buffer. It was not often that two people from opposite genders could remain as close as they were from the innocence of childhood to the hormonal confusion that was being a teenager, but they had been the exception rather than the rule.

"Yeah, I guess." He dropped his gaze to the ground and Abby fought to find something to say, but nothing came to mind. She didn't like this and couldn't quite comprehend it, to her Henry and Trish had been a constant, their love was something to aspire toward not something that they grew out of. Abby didn't understand how that could change all of the sudden but she found that she was almost irrationally averse to it.

As infantile as it was, she didn't want things to change. She was afraid that it would be a chain reaction, that if one thing ended everything would be irrevocably altered.

He tried to meet her eyes but she averted hers, overcome with a pang of embarrassment. He watched a litany of expressions flit across her face and felt himself lean closer to her. "But some things change," he said after a long moment.

She finally looked up at him, his words drew her gaze like a magnet to steel and she longed for the simplicity of childhood. He didn't lean in to kiss her, but his hand brushed hers and she couldn't mistake the way he looked at her...but it only lasted for a moment. Then he was Henry again, her Henry...no, _Trish's _Henry. She took a step to the side and his look softened. If she had watched him for a moment longer she would have seen the confusion, disappointment and finally the resolve flicker before he settled back into his mask. The mask he would find himself wearing more and more frequently as the months and years passed by.

It was the mask he could only take off when he was alone with Abby. Or his father.

But days later six people were dead, Abby's father could hardly stand to look at her, no one spoke her name without grief and pity coloring their tone. Henry potentially upsetting the apple cart went into the furthest reaches of her mind until the more important dilemmas were dealt with. And then, like any sane person, she rationalized it away, never quite convincing herself until she saw him and Trish together.

Because who would be capable of faking so much love?

**Tell me what you think!**


End file.
